


seaside

by daydreamsago



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Adorable Connor, Beaches, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Holding Hands, Hugs, Implied Sexual Content, Intimacy, M/M, Post-Coital Cuddling, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Soft Hank Anderson, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-08-19 10:24:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16532765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreamsago/pseuds/daydreamsago
Summary: "Hank, it's so beautiful." He watches, fixated and still, filled with a new feeling he has not learned how to describe just yet. All that matters is the same eyes that once held utter fear now hold a certain lightness that can only be described as hope.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this took so long to finish because my life decided to turn itself upside down, but despite that, i hope you enjoy this soft mess :)

Going away on vacation is all Connor’s idea, of course. Hank’s not opposed to it, since he knows Connor’s never been outside of Detroit before. He wants for him to see more of the world, even if it’s just a short trip, for three, maybe four days tops. He knows how much happiness it will bring him, so he agrees contently.

Connor suggests they go to a beach, his eyes sparkling as he describes how the moon phases influence the ocean tides. (He’s _adorable_ , Hank thinks.) It’s a classic vacation, perhaps that’s why he picked it. It’ll be a nice, relaxing break for the two of them, a chance to get away from all the stress daily life brings.

Getting the days off is easier than Hank expects it to be. He reckons Captain Fowler feels bad, after everything that happened in the months prior. Connor books the hotel, finding the best deal in moments, and they’re all set. He anticipates the day they leave; he won’t stop talking about how beautiful the sunrise looks over the water, and how the humidity mingles with the sea salt, creating unique weather.

The night before, they pack their things in suitcases. Hank packs more clothes than he’ll ever wear in four days, while Connor packs pouches of extra thirium and a few vital biocomponents, just in case. Hank has noticed that he still worries about getting injured, despite the fact that it’s been months since he got as much as a cut on his hand.

“Whoa, Connor, what’s with all... this?” Hank walks into their bedroom, gesturing to the pile of equipment on the floor. “You afraid you’re gonna get attacked by a shark or somethin’?”

Connor shakes his head. If he still had his LED, it would be cycling golden yellow. “No, the chances of that happening are very slim. I just want to be prepared, if anything were to happen,” he replies, in that tone he only uses when he’s trying to mask the truth. Hank can see right through it, he knows the android far too well.

He decides not to press. “Well, alright. Guess there’s no harm in that.” He shuffles over to the bed and tries to zip his suitcase closed, but the mountain of clothes stops the zipper from joining together. Pushing it down further brings him no luck.

Connor notices his struggle from where he’s sat on the floor, so he stands up and steps over his pile of body parts to assist Hank. “Why are you bringing all these clothes, exactly?” He’s becoming more of a ball-buster every day, and Hank loves to hate it.

“So I don’t have to do laundry? Who the hell wants to do laundry when they’re on vacation?” Hank counters.

That earns a playful slap on the shoulder from Connor. “As if I don’t already do all your laundry.” He opens the suitcase back up, taking a look at the massive amount of clothing there. “There’s... twenty-three shirts in here, Hank. No normal person changes more than five times in a single day.”

Hank also loves to hate how Connor calls him out on his shit. “Ouch,” he says, faking a pained expression.

Connor’s giving him the eyes, the ones he always uses when trying to reason with the Lieutenant. He just _knows_ how effective they are. (Hank’s too whipped for his own good.)

“Okay, _fine_.” He can’t help but lean forward and peck one of Connor’s freckled cheeks. “Put three back.”

Connor rolls his eyes, something he learned from Detective Reed, of course. He should really stop hanging around him so much; he’s starting pick up some bad habits. “Hank!” he exclaims, smiling.

Hank pulls Connor into a warm embrace. “I’m just messin’ with you, Con.” He kisses his nose, causing his face to scrunch up. “How about you pick five of your favorite for me?”

He nods, that lovely smile still plastered on his face. “I can do that.”

“And make that ten if you’re gonna try to steal them and wear them to bed, not that I have a problem w-”

Connor kisses him before he can finish his sentence.

 

Hank sleeps through the night just fine, with an arm slung over Connor, keeping their bodies pressed flush against one another. But Connor, on the other hand, has trouble slipping into stasis. Instead, he lies there awake, monitoring Hank’s vitals every now and then. He’s anticipating their vacation more than he thought he would. The mere thought of finally going somewhere outside of Detroit makes his temperature rise; he often forgets how big the world really is.

Connor sometimes feels small, insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

But he doesn’t have time to fully contemplate such a thought, because before he realizes it, Hank’s alarm is going off, and it’s time for them to wake. Connor’s already ahead of the game, it seems. It’s a good thing he doesn’t need the rest like a human does.

Hank reaches over to shut the alarm off. “Today’s the day,” he says, nuzzling his face into the crook of Connor’s neck.

Connor flips over to face him, a smile plastered on his face. “How did you sleep?” he finds himself asking, even though a quick scan could answer that question for him. Perhaps he’s becoming more human as time passes.

“Great, like a baby. Yourself?”

Normally, Connor would say something about how he doesn’t _technically_ sleep, just goes on a sort of low power mode for the night. But as of recent, he’s beginning to understand that Hank’s talking to him and treating him like a person, because he really  _is_ one. Even the law recognizes him as such, despite the fact that he was built, and not born.

“I didn’t. I’m... anticipating this vacation, and I couldn’t get my system to shut down.” Connor doesn’t try to lie this time. He should know better than to lie to Hank; he can sense it like no other can.

Hank lifts a hand and runs his fingers through Connor’s hair gently; he knows that it soothes him. “You’re excited. Hell, I’d be too if it was my first time seeing somewhere that’s not Detroit.”

Connor sighs happily, something he’s learned since going deviant. “Yeah, I think it’ll be good for me.” He leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to Hank’s lips, smiling into it like a happy fool.

“Guess we should get up now, if we wanna get there to check into the hotel on time,” Hank says, as he pulls the covers off of them. “Is Gavin still coming over to take care of Sumo?”

“Yes, he and Nines are staying over until we get home,” Connor replies. Sumo’s at his feet when he gets out of bed, so he gives him a soft pat on the head.

Hank laughs softly. “Oh god. That ought to be a shitshow, knowing those two.”

 

An hour later, they’re on the road. Hank’s car is packed with their things, the trunk overflowing, even though they both tried their best not to overpack. The morning sun is coming through the windows, cascading down gracefully on Connor's skin. His sensors are always turned on, so he can feel it; he finds it warm and comforting. He takes a moment to bask in the light, quite like a cat would in a sunny spot on the carpet. Looking out the passenger side window, he watches the miles of highway disappear behind them in the rearview mirror. He can hardly wait to feel the sand beneath his feet for the first time, to be somewhere new, and allow it to invade his senses. To really feel, Connor wants nothing more.

The radio is playing softly in the background, tuned to some random jazz station Connor found. Hank doesn't recognize a lot of the songs, but he finds the music to be quite nice. He relaxes behind the wheel: one arm resting on the door of the car, and one controlling it. There's not much to look at along a highway like this one, just tall trees and other cars traveling. He's bored, yet doesn't once think of complaining about it. Life has been so hectic for the two of them recently, so a little bit of boredom almost feels like a reward.

Hank glances over at Connor. His eyes are closed, but he doesn’t appear to be thinking deeply. He looks... peaceful. The discovery makes Hank smile. “You know,” he begins, causing Connor’s eyes to flutter open again. “I used to love long car rides when I was a kid.”

Connor looks at him as if he holds the world in the palm of his hands. His eyes hold complete wonder.

“There’s something nice about knowing you’re on your way to someplace new and exciting, and you’re getting farther away from all the bullshit you have to deal with everyday,” Hank says. “Nothing else matters, it’s just you and the open road.”

“Sounds to me that you’d like to have a nomadic lifestyle,” Connor muses. “And given how adaptable I am, would suit me well, too,” he finds himself adding.

Hank thinks about the two of them, in a van, or perhaps an RV: belonging nowhere in particular, seeing every corner of the country together. He thinks of Christmas on the East Coast and of the Fourth of July in the West. He thinks of hot summer nights strolling through a big city, of cold rainy highways in the autumn. He _dreams_ of life on the road with the only person he can imagine spending all that time with. “Well, Con, that’s a bit of a pipe dream, don’t you think?”

“Mostly anything can be made possible, that is, if you want it enough.”

Hank looks at him again. He’s smiling that sweet little smile he always does. It appears natural, not forced, like it once seemed earlier in his deviancy. It’s so easy to mistake him as human—there’s no difference evident to the naked eye. He takes Connor’s hand, holding it in his own and feeling the softness of his skin. He would hold both of them if he wasn’t driving.

“You’re right,” he speaks to the road ahead. His heart feels warm. “You’ve given me a new perspective, Connor.”

 

Three hours pass fairly quickly, and before they know it, they’re in the hotel parking lot. If he really listens, Connor can hear the distant roar of the ocean. His feels his thirium pump stutter in his chest.

Hank notices how he’s standing there, just taking everything in. He would normally find it endearing, but not when he’s trying to haul all their shit out of the trunk so they can get into their room. “Connor, I could really use your assistance.”

Connor snaps out of his little daydream to help with the luggage. “Sorry,” he apologizes. “This is a lot for me to process.”

Hank stops in his tracks. That’s not something he thought about before—the fact that Connor is in an entirely new environment, everything unfamiliar, for the first time since his activiation. “Shit,” Hank mentally scolds himself for being so ignorant.

He puts the luggage down next to him and pulls Connor into a comforting embrace in the middle of the parking lot. He smiles when he feels him squeeze back. “I’m sorry, guess I forgot this is a pretty big deal to you. Just, do what you need to do, love.”

Connor feels his face heat up at the name. He’s not sure if he will ever get completely used to the tireless affection Hank shows him. “I’m okay,” Connor replies, meaning it. “Just excited.”

They pull away and gather the rest of their things from the car. Hank looks at Connor as if he is the entire world. “Let’s get to our room, then, shall we?”

They make their way into the hotel and check in, retrieving the keycard for the door and the room number. It’s located on the seventh floor, so they ride the massive elevator, which is plenty big enough for their overstuffed suitcases. Hank watches the digital number display as it rises to their floor: 5... 6... _7_. It comes to a halt, the doors open and it dings. He doesn’t say anything, but out of the corner of his eye, he can see Connor smiling to himself.

The room is beautiful, to say the least. It’s designed just as any hotel room is, with a minimalistic pale color scheme that is soft on the eye. The King bed in the center of the room looks luxurious, made in white and creme sheets, and there’s a painting depicting sandpipers on a sandy shore hanging above the headboard. The delicate white curtains over the window are drawn closed, though as Connor goes to pull them back, he’s greeted with his first glimpse of the ocean. He is anything but disappointed at the sight.

He’s seen hundreds of images of the waves on the internet, yet it doesn't even come close to the real thing. The sun is beginning to set; the horizon colored orange and pink, a lovely contrast to the soft blue of the seawater. Flocks of seagulls can be seen in the sky, some mingling with the changing tide below on the sand. Connor makes a small sound that resembles a gasp.

“Hank, it’s so _beautiful_.” He watches, fixated and still, filled with a new feeling he has not learned how to describe just yet. All that matters is the same eyes that once held utter fearnow hold a certain lightness that can only be described as hope.

Hank comes up from behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist, and pressing a feathery kiss to his neck. “I’m so happy you like it.” And really, he is. His chest is fluttering for the first time in a long time. “Just wait till we get down there, it’ll look even better when it’s not behind a piece of glass.”

Connor turns around in his arms. “Come on, let’s go now!” There’s so much happiness in his eyes and his voice, Hank notices.

“Well, you know I can’t say no to your enthusiasm,” Hank replies, earnest.

 

Connor starts running towards the tide as soon as he takes his shoes off. Hank just shakes his head and lays the towel down on the sand, watching him put his feet in the water for the first time as he kicks his own shoes off. He makes his way to his lover’s side, but first, pulls his phone out of his pocket to snap a quick picture first. It’ll make a perfect lock screen.

He’s looking at his feet, digging his toes deep into the sand. Hank just watches with love-brimmed eyes. It’s all he can do in the moment; everything feels so perfect. “The tidal force of the Moon is over twice as strong as the Sun's,” Connor voices suddenly. “But they both play a part in creating high and low tides.”

“You sound like a textbook.”

Connor gives him one of his signature looks, one that means something like _shut the fuck up, Hank._

Hank laughs, “Am I ruining the moment?”

“Would you like me to answer that?” Connor quips, staring out in the distance, perhaps at a tiny boat on the horizon.

Hank reaches out for Connor’s hand, lacing their fingers together. He hasn’t been able to wipe the grin off his face since they arrived. He feels genuinely  _happy_. Very much so. He’s pulled out of his thoughts when Connor starts to pull him into the water further, so that the water pushes past their knees.

It’s Connor that breaks the silence, again. “I feel... grounded. I feel okay, even though I’m in a brand new place, because you’re here. Your presence makes it familiar.”

“I think you’ve gotten even sappier since we got here, I didn’t think that was possible. I love it, though.” Hank looks out across the sea, then at Connor, and there’s so much beauty before his eyes that it’s a bit overwhelming. The dimming sunset is reflecting in Connor’s eyes; Hank reckons it’s the kind of thing people write romantic poetry about.

“It just makes me more human.”

Hank says nothing in reply, only nodding his head. He wants to bottle up this moment and keep it forever. Perhaps Connor is doing just that: recording it and saving it in his files or whatever. Hank wishes he could do the same.

Connor feels something brush over his feet in the water, and looks down to find a pristine white seashell. He hurriedly snatched it before the tide claims it back, pulling it out of the water. “Look,” he says, holding it out to Hank.

“Wow, it’s beautiful.” He takes it and admired its intricate pattern. He hands it back to Connor, careful not to drop it in the water.

Connor looks like he’s thinking deeply, his face slightly twisted. “I think I understand why humans cling to certain material possessions now. This shell could be considered sentimental, because it represents this very moment.” He closes his fingers around it, and smiles.

“You hit the nail on the head,” Hank replies. “It’s the kind of thing that’s comforting after the moment has passed. Reminds you of it and such.”

He looks like he’s thinking again. He slips the shell into his pocket, appearing satisfied. “I’m happy that we’re here together,” his voice mingles with the sound of waves crashing.

Hank pulls him into his side, wrapping an arm around him. He wouldn’t trade this for the world, for anything at all. “I’m happy, too.”

 

They’re cuddled up in a thin white hotel sheet a few hours later, skin on faux-skin that feels just as real as any would. Connor is warm, very warm, at that; intimacy never fails to make his temperature rise a few degrees what it normally rests at, never fails to cause his internal fans to kick on. He feels cherished in Hank’s arms, like someone significant. And he is.

He never deemed Hank as someone who had the capacity to love so much, but that was before he had experienced his love. That was before, before the revolution, before they had begun to grow close hunting down deviants, before Connor had noticed the early signs of his own deviancy. That was a first impression, proved incorrect by the hours spent side by side. Things are different now. Connor wouldn’t have it any other way.

Hank’s got a hand splayed across the android’s bare back, to hold and keep him close. Connor’s arms are looped around Hank’s neck. Their chests are flush together, legs a tangled mess: it’s difficult to tell their begins and ends. They are one, as far as they are both concerned.

The ocean roars in the early nighttime, the sound of the water coming in from the open window a few feet away. The curtain whips around with each breeze that passes through. Something feels brand new, like the tide brought new energy their way. Connor can feel the change in the air, sensors picking up on the shift. His world just became a little more real. A little more _human_.

He can’t wait to see what the next few days have in store.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is kinda short but better late than never!! here’s another chapter of these two being cute, i am Soft

Hank wakes the next morning to the sound of Connor’s voice. He doesn’t open his eyes immediately, so he concludes that he’s either on the phone or having a full blown conversation with himself. Hank wouldn’t put the latter past him.

“Yeah, okay, bye Gavin,” Hank hears him say. It’s still strange to him how the two of them get along so well now, when before, they couldn’t stand the sight of each other. He flips over to face Connor, who’s sitting up with his bare back against the fluffy hotel pillows.

He looks to him and smiles. “Good morning,” he greets sweetly. His skin is glowing in the warm sunrise.

“Morning,” Hank replies. He’s a little groggy, but the feeling starts to fade as he thinks about the day ahead. He reaches over to take one of Connor’s hands, feeling the softness of his skin. It feels like coming home, like comfort in person form.

“What are we doing today?” Connor’s playing with Hank’s hand, letting their fingers tangle together. He lets his skin ebb away down to his wrist. It’s an intimate gesture; he does it to show he wants to be closer to his lover.

Hank smiles, the white plastic glinting in the morning sun. It’s beautiful, Connor’s beautiful. “We can go down to the beach again, if you’d like.”

“I’d like that very much.”

 

The beach is mostly empty, save for a few people walking along the shoreline. Seagulls fly overhead, waves crash, and the sun moves across the blue sky. Connor feels the scenery, feels his surroundings, and the emotions they make him feel. _Happy_. He’s happy.

“So why were you talking to Gavin earlier?” Hank asks as they’re walking.

“I wanted to know how Sumo was doing,” Connor tells him, earnest. “I like being here, but at the same time, I miss being home.”

Hank looks to him, watching his facial expression. “That’s normal. We’ll be going home in no time. Just... try to enjoy yourself, okay?”

“I’m enjoying myself, don’t worry about me.” Connor allows their eyes to lock; he can tell Hank is concerned. “I’m very happy.” His words linger amongst the breaking of the waves, the tide stealing his heart with each one that crashes to shore. It’s true: he is happy here, though he wishes he were home too.

“Good. Guess I need to stop worrying so much,” Hank says, looking down at the sand once more.

Connor says nothing, letting the atmosphere do the talking. They walk in silence for a few minutes. The tide is getting higher, so they move further up the shore. There’s clumps of seaweed and broken fragments of shells littering the sand, along with the occasional plastic bag from many years prior.

Hank is deeply relaxed, a little lost in his thoughts too, when Connor speaks up again. “I wish here and home were the same place.”

He’s looking wistfully off into the distance, so Hank takes his hand. “Home can be anywhere, anyplace. It doesn’t have to be a place, even.”

“Then... you’re like home,” Connor tightens his grip on Hank’s hand, and repeats the word in his head. _Home._

He likes the sound of it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here’s a little bonus reed900 chapter, you know, for the soul.

“Gavin, we’re taking Sumo out for one last walk before Hank and Connor get home,” Nines speaks to a very asleep Detective. He’s passed out on the couch, completely exhausted. Nines can’t relate.

Gavin stirs, then opens his eyes. “ _Ugh_ ,” he groans. “Why can’t you just let me sleep?”

“You can sleep when we get back home.” Nines brushes hair out of Gavin’s eyes, a loving gesture that he used to hate, but has recently grown to like, for reasons Nines isn’t entirely sure about.

He looks quite attractive, Nines thinks, with his half-lidded eyes trained on his face. He doesn’t voice this thought, however. Instead, he opts for grabbing one of his hands to help him off the couch. “C’mon,” he says, as he pulls gently.

Gavin reluctantly gets up, standing for a moment, but as soon as Nines lets go of his hand, he polps back down on the couch.

Nines gives him a disgusted look. “Looks like I’ll have to carry-”

“ _No,_  I’m getting up!” Gavin’s whiny after he wakes up from naps. Nines has seen it firsthand plenty of times. He pushes himself off the couch, a little too forcefully, at that, and into the arms of his partner. It’s a complete accident.

Nines doesn’t even falter, catching Gavin before he falls and hurts himself. “A good night’s sleep every now and then wouldn’t kill you,” he teases.

“You’re a dick. Now let me go,” Gavin pleads, but Nines has got a good grip on him. He squeezes him into a bone-crushing hug before letting him go.

Gavin didn’t hate it, though he wouldn’t admit that. Nines has melted some of the ice around his heart, and he finds himself growing softer and less defensive. He doesn’t know how to feel about that.

Nines grabs Sumo’s leash, attaching it to his collar. He and Gavin head out the door, not speaking of the hug, but both thinking about it.

**Author's Note:**

> maybe i’ll do another chapter if anyone wants it? let me know!


End file.
